when boy meets girl
by Setkia
Summary: They say women fall in love with their ears and men fall in love with their eyes. Well he plays like shit and she's flat as a board but somehow they're still screwed.
1. Of Guesswork, Assumptions & Destiny (?)

_**Author's Note:** I don't own **Soul Eater**. I wrote this story/outlined in YEARS ago (it's only been like, 1 year), but I've gotten better at writing, found the file and fell in love with the plot again, so I'm giving it a new go. The tense has changed, other things have changed, but the basics are all the same. So uh, hope you like it? Also, yay for less stupid titles!_

* * *

 ** _when boy meets girl  
_** _by: Setkia_

* * *

 **They say women fall in love with their ears and men fall in love with their eyes. Well, he plays like shit and she's flat as a board but somehow they're still screwed.**

* * *

Prologue  
Of Guesswork, Assumptions & Destiny (?)

* * *

Ask around as much as you want, but no one can give you a straight answer.

Wes would say it was around the time his little brother started showing her his sheet music.

Black*Star said it was when he caught him in the library with her and he wasn't sleeping.

Tsubaki would claim it was when her best friend started looking for him during lunch and he started waiting at her locker.

Kid would tell you it was because of the dress.

Liz declared it was definitely before the dress, but after the drug search.

Patty is sure it was during the school field trip.

Crona's pretty certain it was around the time she started to write poetry about him.

Hiro knows it was the moment she stopped hanging out with him.

Stein is 98% certain it was when he saw them at the movies.

Marie thinks it was right after the crash.

Blair is almost certain it was when she started wearing the Jacket.

No one knows for certain.

They just woke up one day and Soul "Eater" Evans and Maka Albarn were a thing.

Though many things are unclear, some are certain.

He didn't fall in love, he fell into a ditch with the word love written at the bottom of it.

She didn't swoon and faint over him, she tripped and cracked her head over his bike.

He didn't whisper sweet nothings to her, he shouted curses.

She didn't call him by any terms of endearment, she called him names.

He didn't buy her a drink, he spilt it on her.

She didn't go outside to cry, she just needed air.

He wasn't hoping for anything, he just wanted out of the party.

She wasn't going to avoid men, she was going to annoy her father.

Regardless of their reasons for being there, the fact of the matter was that they were there at the party and that's when everything started.


	2. Of Motorcycles, CPR & Phone Numbers

_**Author's Note:** Because I owe you guys, big time, here's chapter 1. Still don't own **Soul Eater.**_

* * *

 _ **when boy meets girl  
** by: Setkia_

* * *

 **They say women fall in love with their ears and men fall in love with their eyes. Well, he plays like shit and she's flat as a board but somehow they're still screwed.**

* * *

one  
Of Motorcycles, CPR & Phone Numbers

* * *

 _~Soul~_

* * *

 _Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (27 January 1756 – 5 December 1791), baptised as Johannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus Mozart, was a prolific and influential composer of the Classical era. Born—_

"So … I heard Blair's having a party tonight."

 _— in Salzburg, Mozart showed prodigious ability from his earliest childhood. Already competent on keyboard and violin, he composed from the age of five and performed before European royalty._

 _At 17, Mozart was engaged as a musician at the Salzburg court, but grew restless and traveled in search of a better position. While visiting Vienna in 1781,—_

"I _said_ Blair's having a party tonight."

 _—he was dismissed from his Salzburg position. He chose to stay in the capital, where he achieved fame but little financial security. During his final years in Vienna, he composed many of his best-known symphonies, concertos, and operas, and portions of the Requiem, which was largely unfinished at the time of his death. The circumstances of his early death have been much mythologized. He was survived by his wife Constanze and two sons. He composed more than 600 works,—_

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Not really, no."

The eldest Evans sibling pulls the book on classical music composers out of his younger brother's hands, glaring at him pointedly with his hands on his hips. "I was talking to you."

"No, you were stating a general fact."

Wes loves his brother, he really does, but he could live without the sass.

"Soul, I'm being serious."

"So was I. I don't think you're above talking to yourself. If you were talking about Blair's party in an attempt to get me to join you there, you would be wrong in assuming I want to go. You know I'm not like you, people tire me out." Soul Evans grabs his book back from his brother. "Besides, I'm not going to tag along just so you can get laid."

"It's not about getting laid—"

"Blair and her boobs don't entice you?"

"That's something all together different."

"I fail to see how." Soul pauses. "You do realize she's your cousin, right?"

Wes grabs the book from Soul once more. "I'm being serious, you're going to start university soon and I don't want my brother to be known as the anti-social asshole of the school _again_."

Soul rolls his eyes. "Scared I'm going to tarnish your good reputation?" He makes a grab for his book, but Wes holds it out of his reach. "I'm not going to that stupid party, no matter what you say. You have nothing on me that can possibly force me to go."

"Even that weird friend of yours, Black*Star, is going," says Wes. "Don't you want to hang out with your friends, you know, like most teenagers do?" Jumping onto the armrest of the couch, Wes holds the book up to the ceiling, watching in amusement as his poor, closet-music-nerd of a brother epically fails to get his book back. "You're such a weirdo."

"Said by the guy who decided that in order to experiment with his sexuality, he'd try shoving a guitar handle up his ass!"

Wes' face darkens. "I told you, you're never to speak of it again!"

"You don't need me there, why are you so desperate?" Soul frowns, an idea striking him. "Don't tell me you forced me into a double date again."

"Kim was nice—"

"Kim was sucking face with the waiter!"

"Okay, maybe love isn't in the cards for you, doesn't mean sex isn't. Just go out and have fun. You cannot tell me that your idea of an ideal Saturday night is to read a book about some dead musicians."

"I was planning on a video game marathon," Soul snaps. "Anyway, I'm too cool for parties."

"No, you're too indecisive about what you want, and since you are so indifferent about your future, I've decided it. You're coming with me and that's final!"

Soul's crimson eyes darken as they narrow on his brother. "Fuck you, you don't control my life."

"Because Mother and Father aren't going to help you, I will. Now get your head out of your ass, we're going."

Soul decides to ditch the book, and leaves the room, raising the finger to Wes as he goes.

"Love you too, little bro!"

* * *

 _~Maka~_

* * *

"Tell me you didn't just drag me out here to the store to buy new clothes with you because you've finally decided to be a rebel and go out drinking at a club."

The long dark haired girl shakes her head. "It's more like Liz has decided she needs to initiate Patty into the whole … being a part of the university life thing and I'm worried for her."

Maka sighs. That kind heart of her friend's is going to get her hurt one of these days.

"It's just because you know how reckless Liz can be, and she's dragging Patty into it, which I don't think is fair, but Patty doesn't seem to see anything wrong with it, which I find troubling. Shouldn't we at least make sure they don't get alcohol poisoning?"

These are the times in her life that Maka questions how she's friends with the Thompson sisters. It's almost like her life officially began three months ago when she ran into Patty during her art class that she took to make up for failing music. She was cute and fun, if not a bit empty-headed. Turns out her older sister is the biggest rebellious thug that's ever walked the Earth and now Maka's life is like one of those trashy teen soap operas.

"That doesn't mean I have to come."

"I need you there, Maka," says Tsubaki. "There are some weird people at those parties—"

"Exactly why I don't want to go and you can't make me."

Her friend sighs. "I know that I shouldn't, and it's really just my problem, but … I didn't want to mention it unless I had to …"

"What?"

"Liz said that if you didn't go, she was going to take you. Whether you wanted it or not."

"Abduction?" Sadly, it sounds like Liz. "Is she really that desperate?"

"She thinks you're wasting your life away," says Tsubaki with a shrug. "She says you read too much."

"Doesn't mean she's gotta drag me out to some stupid party."

"You know how I feel about large crowds—"

"So do you!" Maka sighs. "I'm not going, you're going to have to tough this one out on your own. Maybe you'll find some other introvert who was forced there against their will."

"Aren't you scared of what Liz'll do if you don't come?"

Maka shakes her head. "What can she do to me? Sure, she's bigger, but I've got my books." The black haired girl does not like the look in her friend's eyes as she holds up her rather large volume on classical literature.

At that moment, Maka's phone rings.

 _Ugh, it's him._

"Hi, Papa," she says monotonously.

"MAKA-CHAN!"

Maka holds the phone an arm-length away from her ear, frowning. Her father is such a loud person, she can still hear his babble even with the added distance. When he seems to have calmed down, she brings the phone back to her ear. Tsubaki is giving her that sympathetic look of hers again. "Yes Papa, I'm listening."

"Listen, dear Maka-chan, I was thinking we could have an father-daughter movie night! I'll pull out all those movies you like; _Jurassic Park, E.T,_ we'll get all into Spielberg!"

Maka rolls her eyes. "Those are _your_ favourite movies."

"But don't you like _E.T?_ It's so emotional!"

"What if I have plans for the night?"

"Oh, I know you don't, my dear Maka-chan," says her father in that doting voice of his. Maka grips her phone tighter. "You never do!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing bad, darling," says Spirit, not seeming to understand he's in trouble with his one and only daughter. "Papa just thinks you don't get out much and besides it's not like you'd ever go to any of those disgusting parties with those filthy men—"

"Well, for your information I _do_ have plans for tonight!"

"Exactly— wait, what?"

"Yeah, I have plans," Maka fibs. If her father thinks she can't go out and have fun, she'll prove him wrong. She isn't a shut-in, she'll have so much fun and he'll be so freaked and stay up all night worrying about her and then maybe he won't bring a hoe home for once! " _And_ they happen to involve those filthy boys you're so against!"

"MAKA-CHAN, NOOOO! DON'T DO THIS TO DADDY, DADDY LOVES YOU!"

Maka's fist clenches. "You can't stop me, my eighteenth birthday was just a few days ago! You don't have any more control over me, Papa!"

It's the last nail in the coffin before her father begins to sputter and sob into the phone.

It's too pathetic for her to hear, so she hangs up.

A silence falls between the girls as Maka struggles to get her temper back under control. Once she's recovered—

"So I'll tell Liz you're coming?"

Maka's eyes widen.

 _Dammit._

* * *

 _~Soul~_

* * *

He isn't really a huge fan of parties to be honest, socializing is more of his brother's thing. Of course he looks stupid when he's thrust into the heat of the party where everyone is drinking and dancing so intimately with everyone else, and he just stands there with his leather jacket which probably has puke on it at this point and his headband that some drunk girl has already tried to pull off his head twice.

And Wes wonders why he doesn't leaving the house.

"Hey Black*Star, I'm going to get some air, alright?" Soul screams to his friend, wondering if the blue-haired idiot can even hear him over the nauseating music. Pop music is too weird for his taste, give him classical or jazz over this shit any day.

He fights his way through the wave of people and nearly bumps into a girl who grabs onto his shoulders to steady herself. Her nails are sharp and painted and dig into his skin too harshly. He pushes her off as gently as he can (you can never be too rough with the intoxicated) and then manages to make his escape into fresh air.

Or as fresh you can get when the party is in the centre of the city where everyone likes to smoke fifteen packs of cigarettes a day.

He came on his bike.

 _Wes won't notice I'm gone, right? And I wouldn't put it past Black*Star to have already forgotten about me._

This type of noise isn't really Soul's scene; he listens to classical music un-ironically.

He's never thought of a violinist as hardcore, but he supposes that compared to Andrea Amati, of course his brother is.

He can ditch the party and no one will notice. He'll be fine.

And then someone smacks into his bike.

More accurately, a girl comes out of nowhere and flies over the handlebars of his motorcycle, doing a complete flip and landing on the concrete.

She's dressed in a kilt and a white blouse, her hair done up in pigtails, her knee-socks practically up to her thighs, her shoes polished. She lets out a groan, not that he can blame her, considering she's just hit the concrete harshly and out of nowhere.

 _Wow, she's flat-chested._

"Are you drunk?"

Soul knows that if Mother were here, she'd pinch his ear and drag him off for a lecture about proper etiquette, especially in front of ladies, but she isn't here so he can do whatever the fuck he wants. Though if Wes comes stumbling out, he'll get the same shit as if Mother _was_ here.

The girl opens her eyes and blinks. She has large, almost oval shaped green eyes. Almost immediately said-eyes narrow, settling into what he thinks is a glare. It looks more like she was pouting. He's tempted to pull her to her feet by grabbing onto her blonde pigtails, but he tells himself that would be inappropriate behaviour.

With a sigh, cursing his good upbringing, he holds out a hand to her. "Let me help you up. I can give you a ride home."

She stares at his hand as though its foreign.

"Oi, you gonna take it?"

Tiny Tits reaches out hesitant. Their hands touch and Soul thinks her hands are too cold. She pulls herself up—

And then he's on the ground, with her straddling his stomach, his cheek stinging.

Okay. "Not drunk, got it." He feels his cheek. The bitch fucking _slapped_ him and it hurt, like, well, like a bitch. "That's the last time I try to be chivalrous. I take back my offer."

The girl doesn't respond, just stares at him, as though she's trying to figure out whether or not he's the rapist she's seen on the news. Once she decides he isn't a threat, she says, "I just needed some air. I'm not drunk."

"Right, course."

"You think I'm lying?"

"No, I believe you."

"I hate liars."

"So do I."

"I'm not lying you know, I don't drink."

"You don't look like the type." Has the ground always been this uncomfortable? What if he's got a concussion thanks to her? "How about you get off of me, and I'll stand up and maybe, if I feel like being nice, I can give you a ride home?"

"Cause I want a ride on that death trap of yours," she scoffs, but she does get off of him. Her balance is much better than he thought it'd be, considering the tumble she took over his handlebars. "What the hell is this thing?" She kicks it with her foot.

"Hey, don't ruin my ride!"

"It's obnoxious looking," said Tiny Tits.

"Jealous?"

"Why would I be jealous of a hunk of metal?"

"Because it's cooler than you."

The girl rolls her eyes. "Because I would sink myself so low as to be envious of scrap?"

Soul is going to pretend he isn't offended by that. "Do you always act like a toddler, or are you feeling extra prissy tonight?"

Socializing _so_ isn't worth it.

"I'm not a child!"

"Well, you sure look like one!"

"Better than behaving like one!"

 _Deep breaths, Soul. You got this._ "Whatever, if you don't want a ride, then I'll just be going now."

"Fine," she huffs, crossing her arms over her flat chest. "I hope you drown in the sewer."

Soul shrugs off her comment and is about to unlock his bike from the rack when a car racing over the speed limit passes them, nearly splashing the two of them in rain water.

Instinctively, he catches her arm before she can teeter over. She's fragile in his hands, like she'll break at the slightest touch.

 _SMACK!_

He takes back his statement. She's not delicate at all.

Soul staggers back and rubs his cheek. There has to be a mark there.

He's just a simple guy who wants out of the party, he didn't ask for some girl to come and smack him around like a punching bag. _Twice_.

 _That's it._

"You know what? Just do whatever you want, I'm leaving—"

"SOUL!"

Soul turns to see Black*Star bent over, breathing heavily as he tries to catch his breath. As much as Black*Star brags about how godly he was, Soul knows the truth. He's really full of himself and though he does have some athletic abilities, running is not one of them. "What happened?"

"C … C … C …"

"C?"

The girl walks right up to Black*Star and slaps him harshly across the face.

 _What is this bitch's problem?_

Black*Star blinks a couple of times, his breathing returning to normal. "Thanks … I needed that. What's your name?"

"What were you trying to say before?" asks the blonde, ignoring his question.

"Oh, right! Soul, I need your help, there's this girl—"

"I've told you a thousand times, I'm _not_ your wingman—"

"It's not that, she's passed out!"

Soul's eyes widen. "Did she drink too much?"

"No, she … She's not breathing."

"Mention that first! Where is she?"

The two of them follow Black*Star back into the apartment. The crowd practically parts like the Red Sea, and based on their expressions, something serious has just put a stop to the party. The mind-numbing music has been turned off, and Black*Star looks seriously worried.

"What happened?" _Shit, what has Black*Star done?_

"She was just eating this thing—"

"Anaphylactic shock, probably," says the girl. "Who was it?"

"Uh, this really hot girl, long dark hair, kind of quiet, uh, she had some like, Japanese name—"

"Tsubaki?!"

Soul frowns.

 _Does she know the girl?_

When they finally break through into the main party room, Soul's stomach drops at the sight of a pale girl passed out on the floor. The blonde runs up to her, falling to her knees. "Someone call 911!"

No one moves.

"NOW!" Soul yells, and it's what everyone needs to kick their asses into gear.

When he looks back at Tiny Tits, she's performing CPR.

Soul approaches her and looks at the unconscious girl. "Make sure she doesn't choke on her tongue."

"You think I don't know that?"

"So, it's an allergic reaction?" Soul notices the way her throat seems to have some welts on it. _Yeah, definitely an allergic reaction_. "Does she have an EpiPen?"

"Back pocket," the girl says distractedly as she goes back to trying to breathe air into her friend's lungs.

With some awkward groping, he gets the EpiPen and hands it to her.

She takes it and—

"Whoa, don't stab her!"

"It's how you give someone the shot!"

"You're holding it like you're ready to execute her via decapitation!"

The girl rolls her eyes. "Now is really _not_ the time to talk to me about EpiPen etiquette. She's breathing, but she's still in shock."

Soul winces as she inserts the needle.

The rest is a blur of chaos until the medics arrive and everyone calms down considerably. Black*Star starts going on about how he's basically just seen lesbian porn and he didn't get to even _enjoy_ it all that much, too worried about the girl's life and Soul got to touch that girl's ass, lucky bastard. He ignores him.

He finds the girl standing outside, watching as her friend is looked at by a doctor.

Heading back inside, Soul gets a glass of punch for him and herself. She's gone from stranger to someone he shares a traumatic experience with; the least he can do is offer her a drink.

Once he's filled them up, he turns around and bumps into someone.

The girl with the pigtails's white blouse is now covered in red punch.

Even when wet, she's still as unsexy as ever, with one of the flattest chests Soul's ever seen.

If his parents ever find out about this, they'll make him pay the laundry bill.

She lets out a nervous laugh. "Somehow, your total screw up is welcomed after such a hectic night."

She's shaking.

"Shit, uh, hold on, come with me, I'll get you something to cover that up with."

"You know this place?"

He ignores her and decides he can't possibly fuck this up night anymore than he already has as he forces his way through the crowd, dragging her along by her arm.

"Wait out here," he tells her once he's outside Blair's bedroom door because he can't guarantee what's going to happen when he enters that hell hole.

"You're not leaving me out here! What if someone tries to take advantage of me?"

Soul scoffs. "With that chest?"

He catches her arm before she can hit him again. "If anyone tries something, just do that. God knows you're good at it."

With that, he slips into Blair's room.

Ugh. It's disgusting.

There are clothes _everywhere_ , and he doesn't trust the dampness of the bed. Soul never thought he'd say it, but he's pretty sure he's seen _too much_ lingerie.

"It looks like a hurricane ran through here."

Soul turns to find Tiny Tits is inside the room. Against his orders.

"The fuck are you doing in here?"

"I got bored, deal with it."

"I wouldn't sit there if I were you— or, you know, do whatever you want, more power to you …" Soul shakes his head and wades his way through the sea of clothing to the closet, which, somehow, still has even more clothes inside. What can he even get her to wear? She's petite, and Blair only wears the skimpiest of dresses— _wait a minute._

"Try this one," he says, tossing her a shirt.

"Aren't you going to turn around?"

"It's not like there's anything to see— I'm turning!" he says when he sees her lift her hand yet again.

When he turns back, he discovers he was right. On Blair, it's a crop-top, on the blonde, it's a shirt. She really _is_ small, and really flat.

 _Shit, you're staring._

"Uh … wanna go outside?"

The fuck is he saying?

She stares at him.

 _No_ ** _duh_** _she's staring at you! You're a total stranger who's asking her to leave with him right after her friend nearly died from suffocation. A stranger she's judo flipped and slapped TWICE._

"Okay."

Soul's pretty sure this wasn't what Wes had in mind when he told Soul to go out and meet a girl.

Surprisingly, he isn't complaining.

* * *

 _~Maka~_

* * *

Maka just needs to clear her head and maybe make up for the fact that she's physically abused the guy who offered her help.

The two of them head back outside to breathe.

Glancing at him sideways, she takes in his strange features. It's strange enough that she actually ended up talking to someone at this Godforsaken party, but to have stumbled across an albino? At least, she thinks he's albino, with his disorderly white hair and red eyes.

 _Does he wear contacts?_

"I'm not wearing contacts," says the boy.

"I wasn't going to ask."

 _You SO were._

"So …" he says awkwardly, "do you do this often?"

"Define 'this'."

Does she go to parties often? No. Does she make a habit of saving her friend's life from allergic reactions? No. Was judo-flipping and slapping boys a pass-time of hers? Well, not with her hand, no, but Tsubaki took her book. He's getting special treatment. Is wearing strange girls' clothing a hobby of hers? No.

"Go outside to talk to random strangers who accuse you of being drunk and spill drinks on you?"

 _Oh that._ "Not really. You're the first."

"Gee, I feel special." He smirks, revealing sharp teeth. He holds out his hand to her. "Name's Soul."

"Maka."

"Maka … you don't hear many people with those kinds of names."

"I don't know many people with the name Soul."

"Fair point," he says. "Just as a head's up, I think my friend may have poisoned yours."

Maka blinks.

"I don't think he meant to, but Black*Star gets really … into the music, and then he does stupid things, like offer people food that he should probably check if they're allergic to." He pauses. "Black*Star was the guy you slapped. Well, the _other_ guy you slapped."

Maka's pretty sure it's weird that the main thing she thinks when she looks at him is _cool_.

"So … did you need fresh air or something? That you were going out in the middle of the party, I mean."

"Why were _you_ out?" She doesn't feel like admitting that while searching for a place to clear her head she had walked in on a couple having sex and had instinctively ran out of the building.

"Can't stand the music."

"Gives you a headache?"

"No— well, yeah, but it's pretty shitty." Soul places his arms behind his head and looks up at the sky. "Ever seen stars before?"

"In this polluted place?"

Soul snickers. "Yeah, guess that's a dumb question. I'm not good at small talk."

"I'm not good with people," she admits. Fictional characters are fine, because they're _fictional,_ and she can let herself be swept up in their world, trading in her bland life for theirs of excitement and adventure. Real people, real _life_ is another story all together (no pun intended).

"I guess we share that in common," Soul muses. "So … any reason you're wearing that?" She can feel his eyes on her as he looks her up and down, taking in her kilt and the sequin top that looks stupid on her. "It's not Halloween, even if Blair dresses that way all the time. Why are you wearing a school girl's uniform?"

"So you're friends with that weird guy with the blue hair?" she asks, avoiding the question. She doesn't know him yet and she's pretty sure she's never going to see him again, but she wants to keep on the safe side. Every guy is like Papa underneath. She doesn't trust him.

"Yeah. Sometimes I regret it, but he's a good friend. When he isn't going crazy."

"How often is that?"

Soul pauses, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Hmm, once in a blue moon?"

For the next two hours they stand outside talking about everything and anything from how the man on the moon must be feeling at this point to whether or not making pancakes is considered baking (he says it is, she says cooking, but she's too tired to look it up).

Despite coming to get back at Papa, she's rather glad she's here instead of sitting through _Jaws_ again.

"Hey … can I have your number?"

Soul blinks. His eyes are so _red_. "You want it?"

"That's kind of why I'm asking."

"Ah, right …"

Maka takes out her phone. She does't know what she's doing and she hopes he can't see how her fingers are trembling as she holds it out to him, but he stops her.

"No, see, the thing is, my phone is basically my child. And if I were to hand my child over to you, how irresponsible of a parent do you think I would be? Plus, there are things in here … Things you will never un-see."

"So you don't want me to go through your porn?"

"Pretty much."

Maka rolls her eyes. "You didn't ask for my number—"

"Yeah, I was going to, but you beat me to it, which is uncool of you." Soul leans back as though there's some sort of invisible wall that Maka can't see, slouching. "So I was going to ask you for you number, but didn't because as I said, you were uncool and asked first."

"Right. You aren't worried some weirdo will hear you when you say your number?"

Soul shrugs. "I can get a good prank call out of it."

They exchange numbers and eventually Maka goes home.

* * *

The house is dark but the moment she opens the front door, she hears it. Hears _them_.

Well, there went her good mood.

"Papa?" She doubts her father can hear her over the sound of the drunk ditz laughing in his ear, so after calling a few more times, she bangs on his door. "PAPA, I'M HOME!"

Almost immediately all sounds seize to exist.

Silence.

Then—

"You have a kid?!"

The door opens and a blonde comes out, pulling her clothes on as she goes. Spirit starts whining about how the blonde is leaving him all alone when he sees Maka and brightens.

She looks away; she doesn't want to look at him, shirtless and drunk.

"Maka-chan, you've come back to me! You didn't do anything stupid with those filthy boys, did you?" he asks, his voice going dark.

Part of Maka wants to tell him that she's pregnant and is eloping to Vegas, but she bites her tongue. He's drunk. She's running out of excuses for his behaviour. _He's_ the reason her first instinct upon meeting Soul was to smack him around.

"I didn't, though I can't say the same about you."

"So mean!" Spirit frowns. "Remember, you've gotta get some good sleep though, Monday you start school!"

Her father, of all people, telling her to be responsible? The hypocrisy is not lost on her.

She goes to get ready to bed, and once she's all done she's about to shut off her phone when it makes a pinging sound.

 **Currency to Trade With the Devil:** _u awake?_

Maka should go to sleep. She's about to ignore it when—

 **Currency to Trade With the Devil:** _i bet u r_

 **Currency to Trade With the Devil:** _ur such a goody-2-shoes_

 **Currency to Trade With the Devil:** _its barely even 1 & ur sleeping _

**Currency to Trade With the Devil:** _so uncool_

Maka rolls her eyes. As she's on a roll for proving people wrong tonight, she gets comfortable in bed and texts back.

 **you:** _I'm not asleep. Are you still at the party?_

 **Currency to Trade With the Devil:** _ah_

 **Currency to Trade With the Devil** _ **:** ur 1 of those pple then_

 **you:** _What does that mean?_

 **Currency to Trade With the Devil:** _the 1s who text w/ proper english_

 **you** _ **:** And YOU'RE one of those slackers_

 **Currency to Trade With the Devil:** _r u gonna correct me?_

 **you** _ **:** Too tired to really. You don't have school to prep for?_

 **Currency to Trade With the Devil:** _2 tired 2 correct, but not 2 write full out?_

 **you** _ **:** You didn't answer my question_

 **Currency to Trade With the Devil:** _ill sleep thru the weekend_

Maka rolls her eyes.

 **Currency to Trade With the Devil:** _u r rolling ur eyes now rite?_

She wants to laugh.

 **Currency to Trade With the Devil:** _now u r gonna laugh, or try not 2, rite?_

Is he a mind reader or something?

 **Currency to Trade With the Devil:** _im not a mind reader, u r just easy 2 read_

Maybe going out had been worth it.


End file.
